The gang getting ready to chow down. (PS - Already at this early point in the night, Chef, who you can barely see peeking out behind Colin, was so wasted that he kept screaming at the restaurant and almost had us thrown out).
Yep, and this one too. (Although, now that I think about it, I think we all might have been singing the four-part back up bit to Aerosmith's "Love In An Elevator" in these last two.)
As "last call" drew nearer, we bid the lovely ladies a fond farewell and hit the road to head over to some other bar where Seth and Frank knew the owner (If you look in the background behind my arm you can see Seth showing off the can of beer he snuck out of the bar by strategically hiding it in his asscrack. Sweet.)
After months of getting people to willingly pose with my balls, it was time to try something new: getting unsuspecting people to unknowingly pose with my balls. I discreetly whipped out my bag, and grabbed one of our new friends for a picture. I handed off the cam to Seth who totally shit the bed by not managing to get my balls in the pic. Doh! The rest of the guys in the pic (Check out Grant and Franks' faces) were laughing so hard that the girl in the black shirt was totally confused...
....a night out on the town! Seth being a pimped-ass high roller, he called in to have a limo chaffeur our asses around all night. Nothing says class like a white-stretch with neon underrunners, baby.
In Montreal, we met up with the three other guys (who drove in from Boston). Seth (the guy next to me), Chef (not pictured because he's being blocked by Fatty's head) and the uber-scary (and therefore edited out of most of the pictures) Ethan (gee, can you figure out which guy is the sociopath in the pic...c'mon, look carefully.).
Here's the New York Five, coldlamping in front of our pimpin' rented Blazer. From Left: Grant, Dave "Fatty" Fateman, Colin "Big Daddy" Gentle and Frank "Seven Layer" Picarazzi.
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